


Wouldn't dare

by bellofthetolppl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Military, bellarke in the military, doctor!clarke, soldier!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/pseuds/bellofthetolppl
Summary: "Remember, doc.” he said. ”I don’t get hurt.”“Stop pulling the devil’s tail...” she responded.“I wouldn’t dare.” he smiled, hugging her before hopping on the rover.It was their thing, always exchanging the same words before he left to go somewhere. It became a ritual, a sort of blessing that she hoped kept him safe.__________________________________Clarke Griffin is serving her country as a field surgeon when she meets the obnoxiously annoying Sergeant Bellamy Blake, who claims he never gets hurt and stubbornly insists on taking her out on a date.





	Wouldn't dare

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I've had this fanfic idea for a few months now but it's taken me a while to sit down and actually write it all. For those of you who have read my other fics, you know I love writing soldier!bellamy and doctor!clarke and I hope you'll enjoy this one as well!
> 
> I'd like to thank [sgtbellamyblake](http://sgtbellamyblake.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this fanfic.
> 
> As always comments and kudos are much appreciated!

She leans down just enough to lift his head gently and press the cup of water against his chapped lips. He’s exhausted, he shouldn’t even be awake, but he’s refusing let his drooping eyelids win the battle just so he can stare at her and shake his head stubbornly every time she tries to slip the oxygen mask back on.

She rests his head back against the pillow and searches for his hand, gripping it tight, trying to give him strength… hope. 

Hope that he’ll make it through the night, that he won’t be just another soldier that dies in her hands because she’s run out of ways to try and save him.

The minute the thought passes through her mind Clarke immediately realizes that she couldn’t be more wrong–Bellamy isn’t just another patient, he isn’t just another soldier. He’s her friend, he’s the man she fell for despite the rules she set for herself before she left to go help those fighting the war. He’s somehow found his way into her life, snuck up on her in that awfully warm day he’d brought his almost-dying friend to the infirmary.

And now…now he’s the one dying and she wants to rage war against the world, on the entire universe even, because this isn’t fair.

“You’re thinking too hard again, doc.” Bellamy jokes breathlessly.

His voice is barely audible so she has to lean down again to be able to hear him better. His eyes are glassy, full of pain and all she wants to do is move up and get him some medication but his grip on her hand is surprisingly strong and forbids her from the possibility of leaving right now. He knows as well as she does that he might not even wake up again anytime soon and if he does, he surely won’t be as lucid.

“I’m not.” Clarke shakes her head with a small smile. “You need to go back to sleep.” He doesn’t even pretend to register her words.

“Clarke,” her eyes meet his and a shiver runs down her spine as she senses what he’s about to tell her. “if I don’t make it through the night-”

“No,” she shakes her head stubbornly. “you will.”

“Clarke,” he tries again and furrows his eyebrows, angry that she won’t hear him out. “please...”

“I said no.” she cuts him off again. ”You are living. You owe me that, alright? You owe it to your sister.”

“Octavia doesn’t care.” he mumbles, a hidden grunt somewhere in there as he shifts under the blanket.

“She does.” Clarke says, her conviction surprising herself. He smiles knowingly and takes a deep breath before closing his eyes for a second and undergoing another awful minute of pain.  
“I bet you never thought we’d end up here when you first met me, huh?” he asks through gritted teeth and she lets out a light chuckle as she settles down on a chair next to him, his pale hand in hers, the freckles standing out in an awfully unnatural way which she tried to avoid acknowledging.

She can see how tired he is and she’s sure in a few minutes he’ll be out again. Sensing the impending state of unconsciousness that waits for him, he tightens his grip again.

”Will you-”

“I won’t leave.” Clarke promises and the soldier smiles before closing his eyes again. ”Get some rest, okay?” she stands up for just a second to press a light kiss to his forehead and he lets out a shaky breath as she places the oxygen mask back on.

Once his breathing evens out, she lets herself relax a little and settles back down on the chair.

Clarke Griffin has always been one hell of a strong stubborn girl. She never cared what people thought of her and refused to listen to a word her parents said, especially her mother’s. Her father hadn’t been surprised when she barged into the living room one morning, two days after finishing off her residency to announce that she was heading off to serve her country as a field surgeon.

Her mother was the one to put up a fight, arguing, yelling, and threatening her even, but Clarke’s eyes were fixated on her father. The man smiled and spoke with open arms “Come here, kiddo.” Her eyes welled up and she hugged her father tighter than ever. She knew well enough he wasn’t happy about it, because as any other parent he was afraid for the safety of his child, yet he understood.

That was all Clarke needed.

Her mother was convinced that one tour would be enough for her to come back to her senses, but when she signed up for her second tour, the woman almost had a heart attack and they stopped talking altogether.

Clarke couldn’t blame her–her mother had dreams for her. She wanted Clarke to be a surgeon in a prestigious hospital in New York and she had taken off to the desert, to try to save the wounded soldiers brought to her with everything she could all the while being in the most dangerous environment.

Bellamy stirs in his sleep and furrows his brows, shifting under the blanket again. He’s probably having another nightmare and guilt washes over her. She runs her fingers through his hair–a gesture that usually calmed him down– and hums quietly as to not disturb the other patients in the infirmary. He stills and his head lolls to his right, burying half his face in the pillow.

She takes a deep breath and leans back against the chair, closing her eyes for a second to remember what he’d said just a few minutes ago. _I bet you never thought we’d end up here when you first met me, huh?_ He was right.

When she first met Bellamy Blake he was dragging his friend Jasper through the infirmary tent yelling for help, even though half the place was already buzzing with busy doctors and injured soldiers.

All of the cots were full, spare tables already being used for surgeries and Clarke was busy patching up a boy, no older than eighteen, when he grabbed her elbow with one hand, a very bloody one, and yanked her towards him.

_“Need a little help over here, doc!” he said rudely and she was thrown off by his attitude right away._

_“You have to go stand over there and wait for your-” she tried but he persisted._

_“He’s bleeding out on me!” he cut her off and shifted away from the boy’s right to show her the weak soldier’s bloody side, a wound peeking through his torn uniform. “We have no time for this.” he motioned at what seemed like a never-ending line of soldiers waiting outside, coming in one by one. ”He’ll die if you don’t do something about it now!”_

_She realized just how serious the injury was when she touched the wound and realized the bullet was still inside. Sure, he had already told her the kid was in critical condition, but she had to check for herself since being a stubborn doctor was what made her a good one._

_Clarke motioned to him to bring his friend over to a recently cleared table, remnants of the blood from the previous soldier still on it. She grabbed a rag, cleaning it up as best as she could before covering the table with a clean sheet._

_“You’ll be alright.” The man told the boy once he was laid down and Clarke took it upon herself to cut his uniform open._

_“What’s his name?” The boy was barely lucid, his eyes were scanning the room but she could tell he barely registered anything besides the man’s voice because every time he spoke, the boy’s hand would snap up, looking for his._

_“Jasper.” He said. ”Jasper Jordan. Please,” he followed desperately as she hovered around the boy. ”You have to save him, he just got here last week.”_

_"I’ll do my best…” she looked at the man’s uniform trying to check his stripes but he caught up quickly._

_“Sergeant Blake.” he informed her and she nodded._

_“You need to go now, Sergeant Blake. I’ll take it from here.” The boy on the table whined in pain but it was just another strangled yelp lost in the sea of soldiers around them. He was a kid really, probably eighteen just like the one she’d was patching up before the sergeant had come in. The only difference was this one was dying._

_“Maybe I can do something to help.” he insisted, noticing that there was no one else there to give her a hand right away. She was tempted for just a second before she saw Murphy pass by with a tray with a bowl full of hot water, his hands stained with other men's blood and his scrubs a mess greater than what his face usually was and she yelled for him to get his ass over to her._

_"Wait outside. I’ll come get you when I’m done.” she told him and expected him to take a step back and leave, but instead he put his larger hand over Jasper’s hair and ruffled it, a brotherly gesture more than anything else, before leaning down to whisper something in his ear. The kid probably didn’t even realize it was happening, he had lost a lot of blood and his eyes were barely open, but he smiled nonetheless and Clarke curiously eyed the sergeant before he retreated, letting her know he’d be outside._

_Five hours later, when she was done with Jasper and the line of wounded soldiers had drastically gone down, she walked outside and found him sitting on a wooden trunk, usually used to carry extra ammo, waiting patiently with a book in hand. The minute he saw her, he jumped from his spot and looked at her expectantly._

_“He’s alive.” Clarke confirmed and immediately a smile spread across his face. ”He’s not entirely out of the woods yet... but I’ll do everything I can to keep him stable.”_

_“Thank you.” he said sincerely. ”Thank you so much, doctor…”_

_“Griffin. Clarke Griffin.” The sergeant nodded at that. ”Your friend was lucky. If it weren’t for you, he would’ve been dead in less than twenty minutes.” He tensed at the words and stared at the ground beneath them for a minute, finding it far more calming than her eyes._

_“It’s my fault. I was supposed to keep him safe.” he explained and when he met her eyes, she saw a look far too familiar at that point–guilt. Every soldier carried it in one way or another around there. It sat heavy on their shoulders and made their postures slumped, brought darkness to their eyes and a tremble to their hands. ”He’s a kid from my hometown, I’ve known him since I was ten. He’s not supposed to be here.”_

_“Why is he then?” she asked carefully and he shrugged._

_“I guess no one was there to stop him.” he uttered quietly. ”No parents, no siblings. Wish I was there when he decided to enlist… would’ve beaten his skinny ass.” She smiled and he granted her a lopsided grin. ”I guess I can still do that, once you let him go.”_

_“No way, you’re not hurting that kid.” she said jokingly but was still a little defensive, even if it was for a boy she’d just met. So many of them were so young and broken already, she wished she could do more for them than just seal a cut or gunshot wound. There were invisible scars too, scars that made them yell or soak their pillows with tears at night–those she couldn’t heal and she hated herself for it._

_By accident her eyes fell to his bloodstained hands and was quick to grab his wrist before he even knew what was happening._

_"What’s this? You’re hurt.” Clarke looked up at him, accusation clear in her voice as she pushed him to sit back on the trunk. There was a big gash on the inside of his hand and with little hesitation she helped him unclench his fist to take a better look at it._

_“It’s just a scratch.” he uttered, confused by her sudden interest in him._

_“It’ll get infected.” she huffed angrily and he shrugged. "Stay here.”_

_"Where are you going, doc?” he asked, trying to get up, but her firm grip on his shoulder pushed him back down._

_“I’m cleaning this up and wrapping it, unless you want to die from blood poisoning.”_

_"Oh c’mon, it’s nothing.” The cockiness in his voice returned and she crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him like a parent listening to their kid come up with a lame excuses over why they’re getting home after curfew. ”I don’t get hurt.” he announced as if it was the most logical thing in the world._

_“You don’t get hurt?” she repeated, her voice mocking, but he didn’t budge at that, returning a smile and a nod._

_“No, I don’t get hurt.” he said as if it was a medal he sported. “Third tour, never been shot or blown up.” Clarke shook her head._

_She’d heard about soldiers like him, cocky bastards who had managed to survive long stretches of time out on the field without a serious injury. Of course, a cut and a bruise didn’t count but she had never met one for herself._

_Murphy had blabbed on about his previous tour, and how he’d met a stupid bastard in one of the units who thought he was invincible. Everyone wanted to go on missions with him. He believed he was some sort of good luck charm until one day he was thrown off by a bomb and hurt his shoulder. He never told anyone and then two weeks later, he was shot because he couldn’t aim properly. Those stories always made her shiver and Murphy had this awful ability to get inside her head every time they had to share a night shift._

_“I wouldn’t be pulling the devil by the tail if I were you...” Clarke sighed, annoyed by his awful childlike behavior._

_She had a low tolerance for cocky assholes and she didn’t necessarily think he was one, but his current behavior was starting to prove her wrong._

_“What devil?” Sergeant Blake joked again, a playful grin on his face but his eyes were serious as he looked around. Then they settled back on her as if he was trying to prove something. ”As far as I’m concerned, hell is empty and all the devils are here.”_

_“Quoting William Shakespeare won’t help against a bullet you know?” she said and his eyes widened with surprise._

_She quickly realized underneath all that bravado was a man who enjoyed literature. No soldier went around trying to impress girls by quoting long-dead poets unless he was passionate about books._

_”What?” she challenged him and quickly wiped the smirk off his face._

_“Nothing. Didn’t think you’d recognize it, that’s all.”_

_“Well I don’t remember ever talking to you before, sergeant. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” she smiled and turned around, ready to walk inside again to grab some bandages._

_“We could change that.” he said, as she walked back towards the infirmary. She turned around and found him smiling. He took a few steps towards her, shortening the distance between them. “Would you like to grab dinner with me tonight?”_

_"I don’t think so, sergeant, but nice try.” she chuckled, despite the warm feeling that had settled deep in her stomach the minute he smiled at her for the first time._

_“Why not?” He didn’t let go. It wasn’t the first time she declined an offer here and it wouldn’t be the last._

_“Because I don’t date soldiers, Sergeant Blake.” she explained simply and usually that would’ve been enough for them to back off but not him. “I want my work and my personal life to stay separate.”_

_“Then I don’t see what the problem is.” he defended his point and she eyed him curiously, waiting for him to explain. “I would never get involved in your work, only in your personal life, if you’ll allow it.”_

_“Right, because you don’t get hurt. Is that it?” He nodded and for a second she wanted to wipe that awfully attractive smirk off his face._

_With a kiss, maybe?_

_“Affirmative.” he confirmed, taking another step closer to her, which made her body temperature rise quickly. She blamed it on the burning desert sun._

_“You know that’s ridiculous, right?” She kept fighting him but she felt like her voice was already betraying her far more than she would’ve liked. “What if you get shot? Or blown up? What happens then? What if you end up on my table one day?”_

_“I won’t.” he responded boldly as she shook her head tiredly. This wasn’t a game anymore–this guy, he wasn’t bragging, there was something else in his eyes and it was just as dangerous as a bullet. “And if I do there are five other doctors in this camp that can take care of me.”_

_“The answer is no, sergeant. I’m sorry.” she forced herself to say, against everything inside her telling her to do otherwise. Her rule sucked._

_His face didn’t falter though, his eyes had a certain sadness in them from the first moment she saw him, but nothing in them changed. He even smiled knowingly at her, as if he knew she was acting against her own self._

_”Now if you’ll wait for me here, I’ll go get some bandages and fix your hand.”_

_“No need for that.” He took a step back and folded his arms behind him. He started walking away when she grabbed his shoulder and held him back._

_“Don’t be stupid, you’re gonna get an infection. Let me fix it for you.” She was angry at his stubbornness._

_God, this was probably the most difficult soldier she had ever met._

_“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She was taken by surprise at the honesty in his voice, he was truly trying to explain himself. “If I let you treat me, you’ll never go out with me and I haven’t given up on that yet.” he added and before she could do anything else, he turned around and left._

_He spent every day for the next week visiting Jasper and every single time he had asked her the same question– an invitation for her to have dinner with him at the main hall, maybe a short walk around camp after and every single time she declined, even though it was becoming more difficult for her to do that._

_The nurses at the infirmary, as well as most of the patients, found out about his desperate attempts to ask her out and everyone was bugging her about it to the point where she had to kick Murphy to make him shut up._

_“I don’t get it.” Murphy told her one evening when the infirmary had quieted down and they were resting outside, desperately trying to cool themselves off after a hot day. “You’re fighting yourself.”_

_“I have rules, Murphy.” Clarke repeated the same thing she’s been telling him for the past week._

_“Well your rules suck, Griffin.” he spat back and she looked at him outraged and ready to fight. He cut her off and continued “Life’s too short for rules, especially ones that you make up for yourself.”_

_“Murphy, I-” she began but he refused to give her the chance to speak her mind._

_“Do you want to go out with him?” he asked and looked at her in the eyes searching for validation he didn’t really need. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair tiredly._

_“I guess...” He raised his eyebrow at her. “Yes. Fine! Yes, I want to go out with him but it’s not that simple!”_

_“Of course it is.” Murphy said impassively. “The guy’s not that bad. Just go out, give him a chance and then you’ll figure out the rest.”_

_“I’m not saying he’s bad. He’s just difficult! He thinks he’s some kind of superhero who thinks bullets will bounce off his chest.”_

_“You mean like Luke Cage?” Clarke threw her hands in the air, annoyed by Murphy’s comments. ”Hey, from what I hear he’s a great team captain.” She turned her head curiously at that. ”Always giving his best for his team... so what if he’s a little cocky? You’re unbearable half the time and he still wants to go out with you.” The words earned him a poke in the ribs and he yelped loudly._

_Sergeant Blake kept visiting the infirmary under false pretense: checking up on Jasper. The fact still remained that every night before he left he found Clarke and asked the same question he’d been asking since the day he met her._

_Finally on a lazy Sunday afternoon, the sergeant approached her after Jasper had fallen asleep and handed her an apple. She took it hesitantly but when she bit into it, moaning a little in delight, he laughed._

_“Look,” he told her. “Yes, I am a stubborn ass, but I also know when to give up and it’s clear you’re not interested in me the same way I am interested in you so...” She opened her mouth a little, surprised by his words as he stared down at his boots for a second, gathering his strength before looking back up at her._

_”I won’t bother you anymore. I just wanted to give you a treat...” he nodded at the half-bitten apple in her hand. “Tell you I’m leaving on a mission tomorrow so you won’t be seeing my face for a few days.”_

_“Bellamy, I-”_

_“Have a good day, doctor!” he said with a trembling voice before saluting her, even though technically he shouldn’t have, and left her tent._

_She stood there all in all thirty seconds before she ran outside, losing herself for a minute in a sea of soldiers. It seemed like half the camp was getting ready to leave tomorrow._

_“Bellamy!” she yelled his name. ”Bellamy!” She looked around frantically until she noticed him walking to another tent. ”Sergeant Blake!” she yelled louder and ran towards him. He finally stopped, turning around just slightly to catch side of her._

_“What if I am interested?” she blurted out, trying to catch her breath as he stared at her completely dumbfounded._

_“I’m sorry?”_

_“I said...” she raised her voice so she could make herself clearer with the noise surrounding them. “I want to go out with you.”_

_"Really?” He was clearly taken aback by this. “I mean… I can be by your tent at seven if you’d like.” He quickly composed himself and she chuckled._

_“That’d be good.”_

_Later that evening, Clarke went out to the mess hall where he took her to a secluded table in a corner just for the two of them, they ate crappy cafeteria food and talked about…well basically everything. Life before and after they enlisted._

Clarke found out he had a sister with whom he hadn’t spoken in over a year after a nasty fight between them and he found out she decided to become a field surgeon after her friend Wells joined and lost his life when at nineteen.

He left for the mission early the following morning and came home five days later to find her waiting for him by the main gates. Clarke ran to him, hugging him out of nowhere and at first he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands until he figured he should hug her.

With time, they grew even closer together.

They would often dine together when their schedules allowed and he would sometimes take her on walks outside camp with the Rover. On Sundays they would watch a movie with the rest of camp in the mess hall and on Mondays she usually was the one to send him off as he went on another one of his countless missions.

Jasper recovered fairly quick and she met the rest of his team–Monty, the other and as he claimed, better half of Jasper, and Miller, Bellamy’s best friend whom he met back in boot camp.

She would sometimes drag Murphy when they were all hanging out and even though they didn’t have a smooth start, everyone got used to him in no time.

It wasn’t all perfect–life had a funny way of sneaking up on them and throwing everything off balance.

Like that one time the infirmary caught fire out of nowhere in the middle of the night and Bellamy had rushed in before everyone else, desperately looking for her only to bring her out, her slim ghost-like figure unconscious in his arms.

Or the time the guys’s rovers got blown off but Bellamy managed to take everyone out of the vehicle before it blew up.

Or that week when they were low on rations for some goddamn reason and Bellamy still managed to bring her an apple every evening.

He liked putting up a brave face for her, but she learned all the cracks in his bravado the first time she stayed and slept in his bunk. He had tossed and turned in his sleep and was woken up with her hands on his face, brushing away his tears.

He’d been quick to hide away from her, turn on his back but she had wrapped her body around his, spooning him gently and whispering soothing words in his ear until his body relaxed and he drifted off into a light sleep again.

In the morning, they didn’t talk about it, pretended like it never happened, but she could see the darkness around his eyes clear as day and noticed all the things she’s missed before, like the slight tremble in his hand when someone was telling a story about an old mission or the darkening of his eyes every time Jasper showed off the big scar on his side and bragged about surviving an awful gunshot wound.

Often at night, after she fell asleep, he would go outside for a walk and by the time he returned, she would be half-awake waiting for him.

He got back into bed with her and she pressed her head to his chest until his breathing evened out, getting a meager three hours of sleep before he had to get up again.

He noticed the little things about her too. He understood her much better as time passed. He found out she often forgot to eat so he took it upon himself to get her food whenever he had time to spare between his duties.

He figured out she really liked to borrow his shirts but most of all loved wrapping his uniform jacket around her skinny shoulders while they were outside with the others.

She had her nightmares too and when she did he took her hands in his and pulled her into the showers where they usually spent the night either fooling around, splashing water at each other as quietly as they could or making love to each other. She wouldn’t be herself until she heard from her father, though, then she calmed down and she was back to feeling somewhat better.

What really stressed her out and what made him hate himself more than he usually did was that every Monday she had to send him off to a mission. He could see the fear and anxiety in her eyes and often held her hands in his, squeezing them tightly as he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

_"Remember, doc.” he said. ”I don’t get hurt.”_

_“Stop pulling the devil’s tail...” she responded._

_“I wouldn’t dare.” he smiled, hugging her before hopping on the rover._

It was their thing, always exchanging the same words before he left to go somewhere. It became a ritual, a sort of blessing that she hoped kept him safe.

And it had. For 15 weeks, it had.

And then on the 16th he had to leave earlier than usual and she skipped saying goodbye to him.

He came back home two days later with the rest of the convoy and at first it seemed like everything was alright. He was on his feet and his eyes seemed a little disoriented but he insisted that she helped Monty with his bleeding shoulder before she could take a look at him.

Fifteen minutes later, he collapsed outside, shaking, with his eyes rolling back and blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.

Turned out he had been bleeding internally all that time and there was a gash on his head which remained hidden under his hair causing a concussion.

His lung collapsed by the time they got him on the table and she was pulled away by Murphy while the doctors prepared to operate on him.

Hours later when they finally emerged, Clarke was the one waiting for news about the man she deeply cared for, about someone she loved.

They told her he was critical and that there were equal chances of recovery or death. She didn’t leave his bedside since, despite Murphy’s attempts to get her to rest, despite Bellamy’s pleas in the few moments he was lucid.

She wasn’t leaving him.

So she stayed by his side at night too. Mostly, she’d been angry lately, especially when he was asleep.

She used those moments to curse at everything she could so she would be calm by the time he woke up.

Curse his selflessness, his stupid hero complex, his inability to let anyone help him. If he’d only said he felt bad when he first came in and hadn’t entered the infirmary begging for help for Monty. If he had told them about getting blown off or about the wound in his head. If he had done one thing different, he would’ve be better off now.

Jasper and Miller passed by earlier to check on him and squeezed her shoulders gently after placing a plate in her hand, reminding her she had to take care of herself too.

She smiled gratefully as she realized how thanks to Bellamy, she had new friends, a new family.

When they left and she pretended to eat some of the food just so she could fool him when he woke up, settling back into the chair, her hand never leaving his.

When she had nightmares, he used to tell her stories, mythological tales usually or fairy tales.

_“I love those.” she said and he laughed. “Of course you do.”_

Sometimes he would even read to her excerpts from the _Iliad_ and she would fall asleep soundly next to him.

Now she tried to retell all the stories he had shared with her but she has never been a great storyteller so she ended up grunting or simply coming up with new parts on her own.

“You know that Elise isn’t supposed to talk while she’s trying to complete the task and free her brothers...” he mumbles and she jumps a little in her seat before realizing he’s awake and talking to her.

“I swear _The Wild Swans_ is the hardest fairy tale!” she complains and a light pain inducing chuckle escapes his lips and his hand moves over to sit on the bandages covering his chest.

“Say what you want,” he struggles to talk but she lets him, knowing he can’t be stopped “but Andersen was a genius storyteller.”

“A bit too sad for my taste...” she brushes her hand over his knuckles and he tries to tighten his grip but she barely feels the movement.

“Pain is part of life.” he says knowingly and she furrows her brows.

“Don’t, Bellamy.” she warns him and he gives her a confused look. “I don’t want to hear about how great my life will be even if you don’t make it.”

“But it will be.” he insists, raising his voice just barely and wincing as he uses whatever strength he has to lift himself up straighter in bed. His movements make her jump from the chair and push him back down gently, which earns her a groan.

“Listen-” he begins but she shakes her head.

“No, don’t-”

“Please, listen!” he begs of her and she swallows hard.

She can’t say no to him, not right now that he’s barely breathing, half-lucid. He’s doing his best to tell her what’s on his mind, the least she could do is hear what he has to say.

“I love you.” he admits and she feels her eyes filling with tears quickly. “I do.” he insists when she shakes her head. His hand extends and with a bit of effort he lifts her chin up to look into her eyes. “I don’t know how it happened...” he takes a deep breath. “or if I deserve it, but I know I love you.”

“I love you too, Bell.” She uses the pause he takes to gather his strength to speak and he smiles, relief visibly spreading through his body.

“I’m sorry I was an ass when we first met. I’m sorry I talked all that shit about… me never getting hurt.” He winces once again when another wave of pain hits him.

“You don’t have to do this now.” she reminds him but he shakes his head.

“I want to tell you a secret.” She hears the determination in his voice. “I’ve always known I could get hurt. I was just…never afraid of it happening.” He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes for a second.

Somehow his words don’t surprise her. She knows how little he valued his own life.

“Until I met you. When I did… I wanted to be right. I wanted to make sure I never got hurt. I wanted to get out of this war alive and go home with you and take you out on a real date, not just on a crappy dinner at the mess hall.” She lets her tears slip freely down her cheeks now and he, once again, reaches over to cup her face and brush them away with a shaky hand.

“What are you talking about?” she said as she put her hand over his. “I love the crappy dinner at the mess hall.”

“Even the yellow jelly?”

“That’s the best part.” she promises and he smiles, closing his eyes for a lot longer than last time, which only meant he was in more pain than before. “Bell, I want more time.” she says and he opens his eyes at the words. “I need more time, do you understand?” he nods. He could easily translate the sentence.

_Don’t leave me._

He isn’t sure how he can keep his promise. Something inside him is infinitely broken. He feels like letting go and he’s sure that if it wasn’t for her maybe he already would’ve. He would never tell her that, though. Instead, he nods slowly and opens up his arm to her.

“Come here,” he mumbles but when he sees her hesitate, he urges her. “Please.” She finds herself carefully lying down next to him after he scoots over to the right side.

She lays her head on the pillow and he turns to her, admiring her beauty and strength all at once.

In one last lucid moment before he falls asleep again, he searches for her hand and she quickly intertwines hers with his.

The last thing he sees is her smile as she laid next to him, mumbling words he couldn’t make sense of.

The last thing he feels is her lips on his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I guess I didn't make this clear enough judging by everyone's comments, so I'm adding this author's note here at the end-he isn't dead! He just fell asleep. Whatever happens later is up to your imagination! I wouldn't leave a fic where he dies untagged properly. I would've put the 'Major character death' tag, if needed, but that's not the case! Thank you all for reading!


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